Mending Hearts
by xPerfectlyImperfect
Summary: Sometimes we can't fix what is broken; we just have to wait for them to mend. George/Verity for Rish.


**Mending Hearts**  
-For Rish-

* * *

He looked unhealthy. His hair was untidy and his face gaunt and sallow. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and the normally intoxicating, bright blue iris was a washed-out steel that reminded her of rainy days and broken hearts.

_But that made sense_, she told herself. Of course his heart was broken. Fred was dead. George had lost his other half. No wonder he looked like death himself.

He was late and he barely mumbled a hello before ducking into his office. His suit jacket was rumpled and it looked like he was wearing matching socks. She couldn't remember a time when he had worn matching socks.

Even in the midst of victory everyone was losing. They lost their loved ones, their friends their family. They lost _themselves. _

Verity dusted the shelves – making sure to check in on her boss every once in a while. Around twelve o'clock, she leaned into the office. He was sitting with his head in hands – papers strewn across the desk. She slowly stepped inside. She made her way across the room and perched herself on the corner of his desk. "George?" She reached out and touched his arm. She felt helpless. She wanted nothing more than to cure his pain but, she had no idea where to start. "Why don't we close the shop for a while and go get something to eat?" She guessed – by the way he looked – that he hadn't had a real meal in quite some time.

"No thanks, Ver. I'm not hungry." He didn't look up at her. He sat, rigid.

"Please, I'm worried for you," she persisted.

"You have no reason to worry for me. I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind." His response was dismissive. She sighed heavily and left the room, closing the door behind her.

-|x|-

Time continued to pass and she noted little improvements. Some mornings his suit jacket would be neatly pressed or his hair would be combed. He still wore heavy bags and dark circles beneath his eyes but, they no longer seemed cold and lifeless.

And one Saturday she saw him smile. It made her smile too.

-|x|-

It was December and the snow was piling up on the window sills. She came to the shop on a Tuesday morning to find him behind the register. His violet jacket was neat and his hair was combed. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold and he was dusting freshly fallen snow from his black cloak. "Good Morning." George hadn't arrived at the shop on time – let alone before her – since Fred was alive. She decided it was best not to point that out and instead said, "You're here early. I brought you a tea."

"Is it one of those lovely teas from that Muggle café you always go to?" He smiled slightly as she handed him the cup.

"Chamomile," She slid past him and removed her jacket, hanging it on the hook behind the counter.

"My favorite," he sat the cup on the counter, waiting for it to cool.

"Is it?" She knew it was – but, she didn't want him to know that. She had been doing everything she could think of – even something as simple as bringing him his favorite tea – to make him happy. She missed her vibrant, smiling George.

"I know what you are doing," he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I have no idea what you are talking about; since when is it suspicious to bring my boss a cup of tea?"

He grunted and she tried to suppress a smile. "And I was going to say, I think it's really nice."

She didn't respond. She took to filling the register with galleons, sickles and knuts.

"I know I have been miserable since Fred's death and I'm sorry. It's just hard, you know? I.." he stopped and took a deep breath. She wanted to reach out and hug him when she noticed the pained look in his eyes. "It's like a part of me is missing. I feel like, it would be wrong to enjoy my life because he lost his. I know that's not what he would want but, I can't help it. I hate living knowing he's dead and he's never going to get to live. Why did I live while he had to die? It just seems so –" tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

"Unfair," she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, George. I wish I knew how to make everything better. It's just impossible. Sometimes you can't fix what's broken," She pulled away, holding his hands in hers. He watched her, confusion etched across his grief-stricken face. "Sometimes you just have to wait for them to mend. That's what you're doing George, your mending. You might not see it, but I do. Every day I see you and I know. It's time and pain and grief and guilt, but it's mending." She squeezed his hands gently and smiled. "I'll be right here for you. I'll do whatever it takes, whatever you need. Your heart will heal and soon there will be only the good memories, the happiness, the joy and the guilt will fade away. You'll be able to smile when you hear his name, you'll laugh at a memory and it will all be okay. It won't be the same but, it _will _be okay."

Her heart leapt when the ghost of a smile spread across his face, "You are one amazing woman Ver."

"No, George. I just care," she gently placed a kiss on his cheek, a smile curving her lips.

* * *

**{an}** I'm not sure if it's my best but, I couldn't resist writing this. I hope you like it Rish. I'm glad I found someone else who likes Gerity : )

**Challenges:**  
OTP Bootcamp – Helpless.  
Twelve Days of Christmas – Fist Day {OTP}  
**Disclaimer - I do not own George or Verity. I proofread but, I'm not perfect. Sorry for any SPaG mistakes. **


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